


It Takes Two to Whisper Quietly

by nightshifted



Category: Nikita (TV 2010)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:44:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightshifted/pseuds/nightshifted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with Jaden. (It didn't start with Jaden.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Takes Two to Whisper Quietly

It started with Jaden.

(It started before Jaden, but Alex never knew exactly what to call it back then, and she was always so high it never mattered. All Vlad ever cared about was whether she could fuck men, and yeah, she could. For a hit, she could be anything for anyone. She tries not to think about that often, so...

So it started with Jaden.)

Alex never particularly liked Jaden, but she found herself painfully attracted to her anyway. Jaden was stubborn, and Jaden was rough, and Jaden was a colossal pain in the ass who almost blew Alex's cover and got her killed, but she was also smart, and strong, and pretty. Jaden was really, really pretty.

Thom kissed Alex, once. She felt exposed after, and not much more. She doesn't like being surprised by men who want her affection. But Thom was a good guy, and it wasn't his fault. He couldn't have known.

It's a nature versus nurture argument she doesn't have the credentials to get into; all she know is all she feels. Her entire life, men have been taking advantage of her, preying on her, using and abusing her, and maybe it's not her body that rejects male attention, but her mind. It's how she stayed detached, all those years when she'd been high and would've done anything for her next hit. It's what kept her alive, before that.

The first time with Nathan had been harder than she imagined it would be. She'd panicked, the way she had under that car in Division, except this time, there was no Thom pulling her out, no Jaden, no Michael. There was only Nathan - a man so far removed from her world - thinking she regularly sold her body to strange men, thinking she was having a visceral reaction to him because of what he thought she did.

(What she did do, once, but she's never been particularly fond of irony. What Michael did drives her _insane_ because it reminds her that she'll never escape this life of doing things for the benefit of others, of lying to people who care about her.)

But Nathan didn't run, or maybe he just didn't know any better, and over time, with repetition and patience, it became easier to find comfort in his body. He wanted to be a hero, and she just wanted something to hold on to that felt normal.

All Alex learns, by the end, is that 'normal' just isn't in the cards for her.

\--

Nikita is--

Where does Alex even start?

Nikita is warm. Nikita cares and worries and loves more fiercely than anyone else Alex knows. Nikita makes her want to be a better person, a stronger woman. Nikita makes her feel like she--

Like she could be happy, after this.

\--

There's a small round mark on Alex's thigh where Nikita's bullet went through her leg. She has other scars - price of admission in her line of work - but that's the only one that still hurts.

The shot had sliced through her like betrayal then, thick and ugly and so raw that she felt like she was being torn open at the seams by Nikita's bare hands.

Nikita tells her later, between apologies, that she couldn't sleep well for weeks thinking about what she did, wondering if destroying what little trust remained between them was worth keeping Alex out of commission for a short while.

("You're still with me," Nikita had said in a tone that was quietly conflicted, "so yeah, I'd do it again.")

Alex realizes that she'd do the same in a heartbeat, to keep Nikita alive, even if it meant Nikita wouldn't understand her actions or would resent her for them, even if she'd leave behind a scar that never stops hurting.

The line between love and insanity seems pretty slender.

\--

Sometime shortly after they fail to rescue Alex's mother from Semak, when Alex is still reeling from the painful truth of her past, she comes to understand one thing about her relationship with Nikita:

Both of them feel like they owe the other something.

Nikita because she tore Alex's family apart (she was following orders, they both know, but guilt doesn't give a shit about any of that), and Alex because Nikita spared her life and gave her another chance.

For years, Alex resented whatever higher power kept her alive when everyone she ever loved was gone. It wasn't until Nikita knocked Ronnie and his thug friends out and then locked her in a sauna for the better part of three days that Alex remembered what having someone who cared about her felt like.

Nikita picked her back up and gave her a fighting chance in a world that only wanted to prey on her. Alex owes her for that, even if Nikita believes that she's the reason Alex had to be rescued in the first place.

The truth is, they're both victims of people and organizations with power far greater than they had when they were dragged in. Maybe they do owe each other, but maybe... maybe Alex stayed for Nikita.

\--

(Alex slips, once, early on.

If there's one thing Vlad was always good about, it was that he delivered on the smack he promised for a job well done.

She's desperate. She hasn't slept in over thirty hours because she needs something - _anything, fuck_ \- to take the edge off. But she's been through the entire loft and found nothing of worth.

In a haze, Alex fumbles her way into Nikita's bed in the middle of the night and tries to undress her. But Nikita's reflexes are sharp, and before Alex even has a chance to roll Nikita's top over the plane of her abdomen, Nikita has Alex flipped onto her back, a strong forearm pressing against her throat.

"Alex?" Nikita's arm loosens. "Wh--" She sighs and runs her free hand through her hair. "Alex, what are you doing?"

Alex grabs Nikita's arm. "Nikita, please, I just need a hit. I'll do anything. Anything you want. I'll make you feel real good."

Nikita rolls to her back, her chest rising and falling evenly. "Go back to bed, Alex."

"I _can't_."

Nikita drapes her blanket over Alex's body. She turns until she's facing Alex, then runs a palm over Alex's sweaty temple.

"It won't feel like this forever, I promise.")

\--

Nikita is--

Well, gorgeous, for one. Alex doesn't have to be anything to see that.

Nikita always touches Alex like it's the last time she'll ever get to, all long, bold strokes and gentle, lingering caresses. She touches her hair, her cheeks, her hands, shoulders, ribcage. When Nikita inspects her for battle wounds, her hands roam all over, burning Alex up, even through Kevlar.

Alex wishes she didn't find Nikita so fucking attractive all of the time because she doesn't want to screw everything up.

(The attraction? Alex can handle. But loving someone the way she loves Nikita? She's not so sure.)

\--

Birkhoff, of all the people in the world, is the first to notice, a few weeks after Alex rejoins them in their little beachfront HQ. He and Alex have been spending more time together, what with Nikita and Michael constantly attached at the hip. Alex isn't bitter about it or anything. It's just hard feeling like she's fighting for Nikita's attention. And losing.

"Some spies they are, huh?" Birkhoff says casually, leaning against the back of his chair. "Can't even tell when one of their own is struggling with her feelings."

For all of Alex's training, she doesn't expect that. "What?"

Birkhoff quirks an eyebrow. "You think I don't know?"

"Know what?" Alex tries again, lowly.

"You got it bad for Niki."

Alex laughs to hide the clench in her stomach. "Are you serious? I'm not--"

Birkhoff presses his lips together. "Yeah, it's none of my business."

"No, it isn't," Alex replies, more aggressively than she means to.

Birkhoff watches her for a moment, then leans forward in his seat and steeples his hands. "Do you... want to talk about it?"

Alex crosses her arms. "Look, whatever you think is going on, you're wrong." When Birkhoff says nothing, Alex shakes her head. "Nikita's not--"

"You never start a sentence with what Niki isn't," Birkhoff cuts in. "She'll prove you wrong just for the heck of it."

"Not about this," Alex says. "She's with Michael. She's happy."

"Are you?"

Alex turns to leave. "It doesn't matter. Just drop it, Birkhoff. Please don't say anything to her."

"You can talk to her," Birkhoff calls after her. "Don't know if you've noticed, but Niki? She loves you a whole lot."

Alex slows to a stop and takes a breath to reign in her emotions. She doesn't know why it hurts so much to hear. Slowly, she turns back to look at Birkhoff, steeled. "In her eyes, I'm just the little girl she rescued."

"Little girls grow up."

"Little girls who grow up into assassins don't get to have a happy ending with the woman who killed her father but spared her life."

Birkhoff has nothing to say to that, but he looks like he regrets bringing it up at all.

\--

The ring is really beautiful, and when Nikita recounts how Michael had nearly lost his life trying to get it back from the clutches of the Hong Kong police, it's almost romantic.

Nikita looks so elated about the whole thing that Alex can't help but be genuinely happy for her. She refuses to cause Nikita any more grief, and that means taking her secret with her to the grave.

(Alex bought Nikita a Valentine's Day present one year, partly because it was her first gift-giving holiday as a free woman, but mostly because she wanted to make Nikita smile.

She'd wanted to do the same the next year, but they were apart then. And this upcoming year? Alex knows better than to give a taken woman a Valentine's Day gift.

It just feels too much like finality.)

\--

They still all live together - Alex, Nikita, Michael, Birkhoff - in a spacious mansion tucked away from the city. Force of habit keeps them there, as well as the convenience of having everyone within reach in an emergency.

Alex has been thinking about moving out to live on her own again. She figures it might offer her some perspective on how she relates to Nikita, compared to how she _wants_ to relate to Nikita, now that...

She just has to learn to let go, somehow.

There's a precocious little girl with a face full of freckles who fights like a seasoned soldier sitting in the backseat of Nikita's car, at the end of a long journey. She's about to see her parents for the first time in two years, and she looks nervously to Alex and Nikita for validation.

It's such a childish fantasy - the perfect, loving family. Alex spent the first ten years of her life thinking she had the perfect family and the next ten unraveling all its ugly secrets.

So maybe there's no such thing, but when Nikita smiles at the little girl and the girl grins back, dimples full force, well, it's easy to imagine what sharing a child with Nikita would be like, in another lifetime.

That night, to Alex's surprise, Nikita shows up at her bedroom door and asks if Alex wants some company. Alex makes space for Nikita on the bed, and Nikita slips in, limbs long and reaching. She smiles affectionately at Alex, touches her hair (hands, shoulders, ribcage), then rolls to her back and sighs.

"We haven't set a date yet, for obvious reasons, but when we do, I'd like you to be my maid of honor."

Something winds tightly at the pit of Alex's stomach, and her chest aches so suddenly that tears spring to her eyes. Fortunately, it's fairly easy to pass one emotion off as another in the dark (gratitude, she tries for gratitude).

"Alex," Nikita continues, staring up at the ceiling, "you are... the strongest person I know."

Alex swallows against the lump in her throat, not trusting herself to speak. She lies on her side and watches the lines of Nikita's profile flutter as she breathes.

"I thought I'd never get another chance after Daniel." Nikita's voice is quiet but strained. "And I was _so_ hellbent on never letting myself love anyone as much as I loved him. But then, somehow, it happened anyway."

"Michael."

Nikita rolls to her side and reaches up to brush Alex's jaw with her knuckles. "No, Alex. I found you."

Alex lets out a sharp breath, feeling the heat radiating down her neck in waves.

"You are the reason I gave myself a second chance," Nikita continues. "And Michael is--someone who understands what it's like. What the world we live in is like." She trails off and leans closer, concern spilt across her features. "Hey, why are you crying?"

Alex quiver-laughs, touching her cheeks to find them damp with tears. "I didn't realize I was. Sorry."

Nikita finds Alex's arm under the covers and tugs until their bodies are flush against one another. Alex buries her face into the curve of Nikita's neck and lets Nikita just hold her while she sobs.

Nikita stays until morning, but Alex wakes first and untangles herself, quietly slipping out. She finds Birkhoff in the kitchen downing a bowl of sugar with cereal.

"I'm going to start looking for my own place," she tells him.

Birkhoff just glances up the stairs toward Michael and Nikita's room, and nods sympathetically.

\--

Nikita is--

Not Alex's.

\--

Sometimes Alex wonders if there's a part of her that will always be a junkie - attaching to things that cause her a moment of pleasure and a lifetime of misery.

Sean has this awful way of surprising Alex with his whims. His intentions are pure, she knows, but she doesn't need anyone dictating her actions or handing her presumptuous ultimatums. Still, Sean reminds her that she has a way out, that she has a mother and a life waiting for her on the outside.

If she's a junkie, then she needs to detox, and every moment spent at Division - every moment spent with Nikita - is counterproductive to her recovery.

She touches the pills in her pocket. She's down to her last, and her head is already swimming with ways to take more from Division before she--before she what? Leaves? Leaves where? To start a life with _Sean_?

It'd be so much easier to say goodbye to Division if it didn't also mean saying goodbye to Nikita, maybe forever.

Alex invites Nikita to dinner and wonders while she's waiting at the restaurant if that's what it would feel like to ask Nikita out, to wait for her on dinner dates, to plan their lives around each other.

When Nikita shows, right on time, in a gorgeous red dress that accentuates her slender frame, Alex figures that this is probably as close as it'll ever get, as _she'll_ ever get.

"Miss seeing you around the house," Nikita says as she takes a seat across from Alex. "How's the new place?"

"Good. Comfy."

"So what's up? Something on your mind?"

Alex almost feels the need to preface what she's about to say with 'don't freak out', but then that just seems shallow and dismissive, and Nikita deserves neither.

"Nikita, I want out."

Alex had expected a lot of reactions - sadness, anger, disappointment - but she hadn't expected the _fear_ that floods Nikita's features.

"I just want a normal life," Alex continues, already feeling her eyes well up with tears. She needs Nikita to not look at her while she does this.

"We'll never have normal lives, Alex," Nikita says, evenly. "You know that."

"So we shouldn't try?" Alex demands. "So we should just slave away for the organization that took away your life and helped destroy mine?"

"It's a different Division."

"Now you sound like Amanda."

That seems to startle Nikita, as much as anything can startle Nikita.

"Look where you are, Nikita. Putting your life on the line every day, and for what? You're about to get _married_." The last part rolls out clunky and out of place, but it's too late to take it back.

A beat. "What is this really about, Alex?"

Alex shakes her head. "Nothing. I'm overstepping."

"No, you're not," Nikita reassures her. "Let's talk about this."

Alex takes a quick, shallow breath. "I turn twenty-one next week. I have enough money to move anywhere in the world and enough political influence that the CIA wouldn't risk putting their hands on me. Semak is dead. Percy is dead. My mother is waiting for me. You know what Sean would give to have his mother back? To be able to spend a few more years with her? What am I even _waiting_ for, Nikita? Why am I still here?"

"To protect the innocent," Nikita replies immediately. "To take Division's rogue agents off the streets."

"You can do all of that without my help," Alex points out. "You were ready to let me go, back when you still needed me to help you bring down Division."

"Because Division was a dangerous place then," Nikita argues. "Because you were a mole inside an unstable organization."

"Division doesn't need me, not anymore."

" _I_ need you, Alex."

Alex can feel herself slipping. "For what?" she asks, angrily. "To prove to yourself that you did one good thing in your life?" She knows she's being unfair, but she can't bring herself to act otherwise.

Instead of chastising her, Nikita humbles. "To keep me grounded."

Alex tightens her jaw, swearing she won't lose her resolve. "Then maybe," she says, "I need to be selfish about this."

Alex gets up and leaves before she has a chance to see Nikita's reaction.

\--

Alex receives a small parcel in the mail a few days later. There's no postage stamp, so someone must have delivered it by foot. After doing a quick check for explosives, Alex pulls it open.

Inside, she finds a beautiful silver bracelet. The accompanying note just reads, in Nikita's neat, purposeful handwriting: _Happy birthday. -N._

A tiny charm sits at the end of the bracelet. It's shaped like a butterfly.

\--

Alex learns to start over.

She visits her mother in the Greek islands - Chios, specifically - and eventually moves there to live with her. She learns to love the culture, the people, even the bitter mastic that is the island's claim to fame. She celebrates her twenty-second birthday there, and then her twenty-third. Division fades to the back of her mind.

Alex attends NA meetings regularly because she runs out of pills but recognizes her patterns - something Nikita taught her, what seems like a lifetime ago. There, she meets a cute Greek girl who laughs from the heart and smiles from her eyes. She was a med student in Athens with big dreams of being a pediatrician when the pressure became too much and she turned to anesthetics to cope. She tells Alex that she's only in Chios for a few months while she rehabilitates, and Alex responds by kissing her.

Alex feels so much more than just exposed. She feels... light, and warm, and _good_.

 _Ketamíni_ , Greek for ketamine. That was the girl's drug of choice, picked up from long shifts at the hospital.

"The person who helped me get clean the first time used to be hooked on that, too," Alex tells her.

"You had a sponsor?"

Alex smiles fondly and fiddles with her bracelet. "No, I had a really great friend."

That doesn't even scratch the surface of what Nikita was to her, but in her new life, that's all Nikita can be.

\--

It's tempting. Sometimes Alex picks up the phone and punches in Nikita's number before erasing it again. She's got to heal herself from the addict mentality, or at least learn to cope with how badly every part of her body gravitates toward something when she really _craves_ it, and how hard it is to battle her brain when the dopamine starts leaking.

There's a photograph of them that Alex keeps on a bookshelf in her new home. Birkhoff had snapped it that one Christmas when they all lived together. In the shot, Nikita is handing Alex the star that goes at the top of the tree, and Alex is trying to hide her smile, but her eyes give her away. Alex looks so genuinely at peace in the picture that she almost doesn't recognize herself.

Back then, too often, she hadn't recognized herself around Nikita, and it terrified her enough to run. But the time away gives her the clarity to understand that it was her perception of herself that was skewed. Nikita challenged her to be better, held her up when she slipped, and pushed the boundaries of her ability to experience human emotion. With everyone else, Alex felt like she was playing a role; with Nikita, she could finally let all of that go and be herself.

Away from it all, Alex learns to love herself, to forgive herself, to accept the things that she cannot change - her past, her choices, _other people's_ choices.

Reclaiming her body and her sexuality is a struggle, but one that she works on every day. After so many years of suppressing her body's natural responses to accommodate others, she learns to listen for signs again.

She picks up a job at the only rehabilitation clinic on the entire island and dedicates herself to helping men and women who have lost everything because they never had the tools to act otherwise. Every two weeks, she returns her entire paycheck back to the clinic in an anonymous donation. And when a teenage girl who completes the program lands back in the clinic a few weeks later with nasty needle marks on her arm, Alex picks her back up and starts over, tries again.

She wonders if the people who walk through her office would trust her with their secrets if they knew that she could kill her way through half the building with her bare hands. She wonders what Nikita would say, if she were here to witness this.

It's the little things she misses the most. Nikita breathing into her ear during ops, Nikita tending to her injuries, Nikita in the early mornings - always alert, always poised, but always warm and open and willing to talk to Alex about whatever was on her mind.

Alex would give almost anything to hear Nikita tell her that she's in a safe place one last time.

\--

( _Nikita,_

_I'm leaving. Please don't come looking for me. I promise I'll be safe. Take care of Birkhoff for me._

_I miss you already, and I'm sorry._

_Alex_ )

\--

There's blood on her hands that she can't wipe clean. Most people can say with absolute certainty the number of lives they've ended - even serial killers keep tallies - but Alex lost count somewhere after fifteen.

She remembers her first though. Thom. She has spent every day since trying to forget the way Thom looked moments before life drained from his cheeks. Nikita had warned her, had tried so hard to protect her from her first kill, because yeah, it became easier after that. The trade-off was that she could feel her humanity slipping away every time she looked into the scope of a rifle and felt nothing for what she was about to do - no fear, no shame, no remorse. Sometimes she understands why Nikita felt so strongly about staying behind to clean up Division. It's about a sense of balance, of righting wrongs, of making up for spilled blood.

Alex knows that she's in a better place now - she's _happy_ , for once - but once an assassin, always an assassin. Alex wonders if she'll spend the rest of her life worrying about adding to her total, accidentally or otherwise.

\--

Birkhoff finds Alex after she's been gone a little over four years. In true Birkhoff fashion, he hacks into her computer and projects his face onto her screen uninvited.

Alex breaks out into an involuntary grin. She hasn't had contact with anyone from her old life in so long, she's almost forgotten what they looked like. But Birkhoff looks the same as he always has, and that makes Alex's heart swell with nostalgia.

"Birkhoff? Can--can you see me?"

Birkhoff tosses her a skeptical look. "I've broken into the most secure intelligence agencies in the entire world and you think I can't hack a laptop webcam in the middle of the Greek isles? Who do you think you're talking to?"

God, she's missed him. She's missed everyone. She just hasn't allowed herself to think much about it over the past few years.

Birkhoff sobers. "It's over, Alex."

"What is?"

"Division," he replies. "Everything. It's been three days since they blew the entire place apart."

Alex's heart jumps to her throat. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, everyone's fine. Long story short, the CIA agreed to let us gradually rehabilitate all the agents, find them stable work on the outside. Some got moved to other agencies, and some are just--you know what, it doesn't matter. We fixed it on our terms. It's over."

Alex swallows hard. "What happens now?"

Birkhoff stretches back against his seat. "Well, I get to take a big fat vacation, for one."

She's desperate to ask about Nikita. She's just--

"Mikey's with his kid," Birkhoff continues.

"They had a baby?" Alex asks, almost stumbling over the words. And she knows by the storm of conflicted emotions that brew suddenly and hotly inside her that she'll never be completely over how she felt all those years ago.

Birkhoff blinks. "Who? Oh, you mean Nikita and Michael? No, they broke off the engagement a few months after you left. I was talking about his son Max."

Alex's head starts spinning. "Why? What happened?"

"Wish I could tell you, but you'll have to ask them," Birkhoff tells her with a short shrug. "I tried to stay out of it."

"You didn't tell her, did you? About me."

Birkhoff almost looks offended by the suggestion. "No, but I suspect that she's had the time to figure it out." His expression shifts, like he's trying to figure out how to say what he says next. "She misses you a whole heck of a lot, Alex."

Alex isn't prepared to hear that. "I had to leave, Birkhoff," she says, holding back her tears. "I had to get healthy."

Birkhoff leans closer to the screen. "Hey, I get it. You don't have to explain. You've been doing okay?"

Alex tilts her head in a nod. "Yeah, I've been doing really great. It's beautiful here."

"Listen, Alex, we'd really like to see you, if you're up for it." Birkhoff squints in anticipation. "Maybe just fly up for a couple of days?"

Alex can't help the way her heart leaps. "We?"

"Me and Niki."

"Is she there with you?" Alex asks, trying to keep her pulse from jackhammering. "Right now?"

"No, the CIA has her and Ryan locked up in an office doing some paperwork to tie up Division's loose ends. But she's been talking about reaching out now that it's safe for us."

Alex takes a breath through her nose. "You said that you're free to do as you wish, right?" she asks.

Birkhoff nods. "Within the confines of the law, yeah."

"Then you come to me."

\--

The island of Chios has exactly one airport, servicing exactly four airlines.

It's been a week since she first spoke to Birkhoff, and other than the periodic updates she gets from him about their travel plans, she doesn't hear from anyone else. She doesn't know what she's expecting. It isn't exactly like she's dialing Nikita's number, either.

The morning they're scheduled to arrive, Alex drives to the airport and sits in the tiny terminal empty-handed, waiting. The plane lands on time, and Alex shoots out of her seat, chastising herself for being so jumpy and anxious. She watches through the window as people begin streaming out of the small aircraft and down the stairs. After about a dozen passengers, Nikita's form emerges, a suitcase in one hand.

Nikita looks incredible. She's sporting a new haircut, but she still walks like a soldier and carries confidence in her torso, like a woman who's _earned_ her life rather than just lived it. Alex has always respected that.

It isn't until Nikita's nearly inside the terminal that Alex notices that Birkhoff isn't with her. Just as Alex starts skimming the rest of the passengers, her phone vibrates with a text message:  _Be there next time. This one's just about you and Niki. Good luck._

Alex's pulse skyrockets, and suddenly, Nikita is standing in front of her in jeans and a knit sweater, crooked smile on her lips. She hasn't aged a day in four years, and--

"Hey, stranger."

Alex swallows hard. "Nikita."

Nikita drops her bag and smiles. "What, I don't even get a hug?"

Alex looks down to hide her grin. She steps forward, until she's in Nikita's space, then slips her arms around Nikita's waist and rests her head on Nikita's shoulder. Nikita's hands slide up over Alex's back, through her hair, brushing the nape of her neck. It feels just as warm and safe as Alex remembers.

When she pulls away, Nikita frames Alex's face with her hands.

"God, look at you," Nikita says affectionately.

"I'm sorry I ran," Alex blurts out, and she only realizes then that she's been holding on to that apology for four years.

"No, Alex, don't call it that. You deserved a break." Nikita pulls Alex close again. "I've missed you."

 _God_. "I've missed you so much."

Nikita reaches up, brushes Alex's curls away from her face. "You've been taking care of yourself?"

"Yeah." Alex's throat feels dry, like she can't decide if she's moments from laughing or moments from crying. "So Division's over, huh?"

Nikita nods. "And Amanda and Ari are dead. I personally made sure of that."

Alex looks down at her shoes, then back up again. "Nikita..."

"If you're going to apologize again," Nikita says, "don't."

Alex clamps her mouth shut.

Nikita smirks. "Why don't you show me around?"

\--

Nikita is--

 _Here_ , with her, and Alex knows that it's rude to stare but honestly, _honestly_ , she can't bring herself to care about propriety when Nikita's stretched out in front of her on the couch, limbs spread haphazardly across the cushions like she's been living here all this time.

For a moment, Alex forgets about the rules and the guilt and lets herself imagine climbing over Nikita's body, reining in her limbs, and kissing her.

Time apart hasn't changed the way she feels, only how much control she has over those emotions.

\--

Nikita spends the evening catching Alex up on the last four years. She doesn't mention Michael except when she's forced to in the context of a mission. It's hard watching Nikita struggle to stay detached when it's clear that she's still hurting.

They're seated together on the couch, two glasses of red wine on the coffee table, and Alex remembers when hers had been almond milk. She was so young then, so full of... anger. Impatience.

Alex catches Nikita running the pad of her thumb over her ring finger, now bare, and takes the opportunity.

"Birkhoff told me about you and Michael. I'm sorry." She manages to sound sincere, and it surprises her to realize that she actually does mean it.

Nikita tries for an unaffected smile. "It was a long time ago."

"What happened?"

"I got injured on a mission," Nikita explains. "Nothing life-threatening, but it was bad. I spent a few weeks in Medical. It scared him. He wanted us to run off and start a life together."

"And you didn't?"

Nikita sighs. "No, I did, more than anything. I was just as sick of this life as he was, especially after you left, but I can't always do everything I want to do, Alex. Division still needed me. Michael and I fell apart after that."

"He didn't wait for you," Alex says flatly.

Nikita's eyes flicker up to Alex's face. "Would you have?"

Alex's chest hurts. "If you'd been mine, yeah."

"Alex..."

"I know that you would've waited for him," Alex cuts in quickly.

Nikita takes a moment to consider that. "Yeah, I would have."

"Now that Division's over, do you think--" Alex inhales through her nose, painfully. "--that you and Michael will work things out?"

Nikita doesn't flinch. "We have to live with the decisions that we make, Alex."

The honesty there brings tears to Alex's eyes. "Nikita, I never wanted to be your maid of honor."

Nikita takes Alex's hand, laces their fingers together. "I know that now."

Alex almost laughs. "Do you?"

Nikita hesitates, then gives Alex's hand a squeeze. "Yeah."

Alex shakes her head in disbelief. "I don't think--"

"Alex," Nikita cuts in quietly. She pulls Alex's hand until it rests against her chest, over her heart. She doesn't say anything else, just reaches over with her other hand and brushes her thumb over Alex's damp cheeks.

Alex shudders without meaning to. "When did you figure it out?"

Nikita keeps her hand against Alex's jaw. "I think I always knew, but I dismissed it because I couldn't let myself go there."

"It would've been a disaster," Alex says lightheartedly, pulling away slightly. "Can you imagine? I was such a mess."

Nikita gives her a soft look that makes Alex's heart lodge in her throat. She untangles her hand from Nikita's and throws her head back against the couch.

"Being... attached would've put us both in danger," Alex reasons. She's not sure why she's still talking; she just needs to fill empty space. "It would've given Division ammo it definitely didn't need, not to mention the fact that it would have compromised our ability to make rational decisions."

Nikita smiles faintly. "Are you done listing all the reasons we shouldn't have gotten involved when we were both neck-deep in Division over six years ago?"

Alex flushes. "Sorry."

"To be clear," Nikita continues, voice low in a deeply affected way, "I have never been able to make a rational decision when it comes to you, Alex."

Alex tilts her head to look at Nikita. She finds, in Nikita's eyes, a quiet longing that she's never seen there before, but doubt still weighs heavily in Alex's mind. What if she's misreading the situation entirely? What if Nikita is referring to something else, or what if--

"I'd really like to kiss you," Nikita says without taking her eyes off Alex, "if that's okay."

Alex's heart hammers as she feels herself nodding. Nikita slides forward with purpose, and Alex lifts her head to meet Nikita halfway. Their lips are inches apart when Nikita's hands touch Alex's neck, her fingertips ghosting Alex's hairline and coaxing her closer.

Nikita kisses softer than Alex expects. In all those times when Alex let herself wonder, she'd imagined Nikita to be an aggressive lover, shoving Alex down and dominating her. But it's not like that now. Nikita lets Alex take the lead and control the pace. It's almost as though Nikita is _conceding_ to her.

Alex surges forward, pinning Nikita under her in one swift movement. She straddles Nikita's hips and leans down to pepper kisses along Nikita's neck.

"Kiss me like you want to fuck me," Alex tells her between breaths.

Nikita groans. "Alex."

Alex presses their lips together again, more forcefully. Nikita's hands glide down Alex's sides until they're resting against her hips. Alex moans when Nikita gives her a firm tug, dragging her up. Alex dips her tongue desperately past Nikita's lips in response.

Alex knows that it would be easy for Nikita to overpower her, flip her to her back and grab the reins, especially with how long it's been since Alex's last fistfight. But Nikita doesn't do that, and Alex briefly wonders if Nikita knows how much she hates feeling trapped, even by someone she trusts with her life.

Alex pushes herself up onto her elbows and takes a moment to study the woman lying underneath her. Nikita's lips are swollen from the kissing, her breath quick but controlled. She smiles at Alex as her hands play with the hem of Alex's shirt.

"You don't have to go easy on me," Alex says confidently, sitting up and splaying her hands out across Nikita's ribcage. "I can take it."

Nikita reaches up and pushes Alex hair out of her face. "I'm not going easy on you. I just want to be able to remember every detail."

Alex smiles, slowly sliding her hand under Nikita's top and finding smooth, toned abs. "Why? I could always give you a refresher if you forget."

Nikita laughs. "How noble of you."

Alex rises from the couch and helps Nikita up after her. She guides Nikita to her bedroom, and as soon as they're inside, Alex presses Nikita against the wall and kisses her. Alex's thigh slips between Nikita's legs, and when she rolls her hips, Nikita makes a soft noise against Alex's mouth.

Alex pulls away long enough to grab Nikita's top and tug it over her head in one fluid motion. She tosses it aside and lets her hands roam Nikita's skin, reverently, like she's wanted to for years. Scars pepper Nikita's body - some faded, some still puffy and fresh - and Alex wants to know about every single one. She reaches down with one hand to unbutton and unzip Nikita's jeans.

"Get on the bed," Alex says, using both hands to nudge Nikita's jeans down over her hips. She leans down to kiss the closest scar, a tiny one where Nikita's collarbone meets her shoulder. "You're going to tell me the story behind each of these, one day."

"Bossy," Nikita quips, but she complies, kicking off her pants and moving to lie down on her back at the center of Alex's bed.

Alex shimmies out of her own shirt and pants, then climbs on after Nikita. She straddles Nikita again, feeling the muscles of Nikita's abdomen clench when her weight presses down against them. Alex doesn't expect to thrive so much from the control. She's never been with anyone who's given up so much of it, not like this.

Alex slides lower, until she's sitting on Nikita's thighs. She motions for Nikita to sit up, and when Nikita does, effortlessly, Alex reaches around her to unclasp her bra. Nikita shrugs the straps down her shoulders and throws it to the side. Alex lowers her mouth, teases one of Nikita's nipples with her tongue while her hand starts working the other.

Nikita throws her head back, arching up to Alex and breathing out her name. Neither of them needs the foreplay, Alex is pretty sure, but when Nikita lifts Alex gently by the chin and kisses her, she can't think of a single thing more important than the slow but deliberate burn of Nikita's lips.

Nikita's fingertips climb up the hard ridges of Alex's backbone until they reach her bra. She flicks open the clasp and waits for Alex to pull it off and toss it away.

Alex rolls her hips, once, experimentally, trying to get pressure where she needs it the most. Nikita's mouth starts planting kisses over the curve of her breast, distracting her, and Alex's hand clamps down on the back of Nikita's head to keep her there.

Nikita slides a hand between their bodies, cupping Alex at the apex of her thighs. Alex lets out a frustrated, "fuck, Nikita," and shoves Nikita by the shoulders, pushing her back down.

"Would you dominate me, if I asked you to?"

Nikita's eyes flicker down to Alex's lips, then back up. "Yes."

"I mean completely," Alex continues, tightening her grip around Nikita's shoulders. "Would you hold me down and touch me as I struggled against you and begged you not to?"

Nikita swallows hard. "We can talk about that."

Alex's body's immediately spikes with anticipation. "I'm never going to be able to relate to sex the way most people do, Nikita. Before we do this, I need you to understand that."

Nikita nods. "I understand."

Alex takes a breath to calm herself. She lifts her body enough to remove her panties, then helps Nikita do the same. Alex settles between Nikita's parted legs, stretching up to press a kiss right below Nikita's navel.

Alex slides lower until her lip bumps Nikita's clit. She takes it into her mouth, drawing a firm line down with her tongue.

Nikita fists the sheets, thighs flexing. "Alex, Christ."

Alex smiles, stroking slowly until Nikita's entire body is practically humming with arousal. Alex lifts slightly and leaves a few quick wet kisses on Nikita's inner thigh before running her hands up Nikita's legs. She touches Nikita with her thumb first, runs a circle around her clit, then stretches two fingers, pressing in. Nikita's hips twist off the bed.

Without moving her hand, Alex crawls up the length of Nikita's body, pausing briefly to lavish attention to her breasts, before settling beside her on the pillow.

Nikita turns her head toward Alex and kisses her, groaning when Alex starts to move her hand, slowly at first, then with quick, jerky thrusts.

Alex pulls away from Nikita's lips to touch her jaw, her cheek, under her ear. Alex has never imagined that she'd ever have Nikita like this - soft and pliant under her fingertips, at her mercy, exposed and intimate.

Nikita comes quietly, clenching around Alex's fingers. Alex kisses her to help her down, letting her thumb strum over Nikita's nerves.

When Nikita finally calms, she rolls to her side to face Alex. Their lips meet again, languidly like they have all the time in the world.

Nikita nudges Alex to her back and hovers over her as she admires Alex's body, but anxiety coils unexpectedly at the pit of Alex's stomach. She places a hand on Nikita's arm and guides her back down to the pillow. Alex turns to her other side, facing away from Nikita, and slowly backs into Nikita's awaiting body.

"Is this okay?"

Nikita presses a kiss to Alex's bare shoulder. "Of course."

Nikita reaches over Alex's hip and between her legs, finding evidence of Alex's heavy arousal. Alex lifts her leg and hooks it back over Nikita's to give Nikita's hand more room to navigate. Alex can feel Nikita pressing deliberate kisses against the butterfly tattoo at the base of her neck.

Nikita's fingers play with Alex's clit for a moment, building her up, before Nikita pauses, fingertips at Alex's entrance.

"Do you want--?"

"No, just--" Alex's hand covers Nikita's, guiding her fingers over her clit with heavy pressure. Alex sighs. "Yeah, that's good. Keep doing that."

Nikita does her best to mimic Alex's motions, but it doesn't matter either way. Alex finds herself close embarrassingly quickly, her hips bucking shamelessly against Nikita's hand.

"I'm so--fuck, Nikita, harder, please, I need, _oh_."

Alex's body tenses then shudders as white-hot pleasure rolls through her in waves. Nikita's lips are on her neck, her jaw, her cheek, everywhere, she's so sensitive. She doesn't remember a single drug that ever made her feel this good.

Nikita's still touching her, gentler now, when she catches her breath. Alex rests her hand on Nikita's wrist, presses down until Nikita gets it and removes her arm.

Alex flips back around and ducks her head, laughing to herself, because suddenly, after all that, she feels self-conscious. 

Nikita kisses Alex's forehead, then navigates them around the bed so that she can pull the blankets over their naked bodies. Alex already feels herself drifting, but she tries to force her eyes open.

"Nikita--"

"Sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

Alex doesn't argue with that. She falls asleep with Nikita's hand in her hair and Nikita's comfort in her heart.

\--

Unsurprisingly, Nikita is already awake when Alex tumbles back to consciousness. She has her head propped up against a pillow, devoted to an open book in front of her. The sheets are pulled up to her chest, and the light streaming through the cracks in the curtains glance off her hair, making the strands appear golden. Alex doesn't think she's ever seen Nikita more gorgeous.

"What time is it?" Alex murmurs, stretching her arm to reach Nikita's body.

"Early," Nikita replies, sliding a hand under the covers to hold Alex's hand. "Go back to sleep."

Alex groans drowsily and moves closer, seeking warmth. "What are you reading?"

Nikita flips the book up to show Alex the cover.

Alex stifles a laugh. "You're reading a Chios travel guide?"

Nikita smiles. "Figured I might as well get some sightseeing in."

Alex stretches until her legs nestle next to Nikita's. "This view isn't good enough for you?"

Nikita rolls her eyes and drops her book on the night table. She burrows back down deeper into the covers, settling her head next to Alex's on her pillow. Alex shimmies forward until their bodies are touching.

"Hi," Nikita says, running a hand over Alex's ribcage.

Alex smiles. "Morning."

"Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in years."

"Good," Nikita sighs. "Me too."

Alex slips her leg between Nikita's for a moment, just to feel heat against her thigh. She moves closer and presses her lips against Nikita's in a soft, chaste kiss.

"I didn't expect last night," Alex admits when she pulls away.

"Me neither." Nikita touches Alex's cheek tenderly. "I wasn't even sure if I'd ever see you again."

Alex rolls to her back, keeping her head tilted toward Nikita. "How long are you staying?"

"I have nowhere else to be," Nikita replies. "You know, it's safe for you and your mother to go anywhere you want now."

"I think she might want to return to Russia."

"And you?" Nikita asks.

"Somewhere warmer," Alex says with a short laugh.

Nikita smiles. "Me too."

"How do you feel about Fiji?"

Nikita props her head up with her elbow. "I've never been to Fiji."

"I'll buy you a travel guide," Alex deadpans.

Nikita laughs. "Shut up."

Alex closes the space between them to kiss Nikita, just because she can. It hits her then; they're free. They're. Free.

"Nikita," Alex says softly. She's missed being able to say her name. "Nikita, my mother's coming over later."

Immediately, Nikita tenses, growing alert. "When?"

"Later," Alex reassures. She laughs. "Nikita. You've already met her. She knows the truth and she likes you. She'll probably throw you a party for being brave enough to love me, after everything you've witnessed."

"It doesn't take bravery," Nikita says as she relaxes again. She touches Alex's hair. "Alex, what you asked me last night, about how far I would go..."

Alex feels her whole body flush. "Forget I said that. It was just a heat of the moment--whatever. We don't have to talk about it."

"No, I want to," Nikita insists earnestly. "I'm not willing to hurt you - physically or otherwise - so you have to promise me that being subjected to that won't harm you in any way."

Alex takes a moment to consider how to best explain the way she feels. "My body wasn't my own for so many years, Nikita, and I will never truly know how big an impact that's had on me. But just the thought of you handling me like that, I--" Alex bites her lip. "I've never trusted anyone enough to let them try, but I know that I'm at a place in my head where I can handle it." She searches Nikita's eyes for comprehension. "I know it's a lot to take in. We don't have to do this, ever."

"We can work up to it," Nikita offers after a moment. "We can work up to everything else, too."

Alex rolls over, pushing Nikita onto her back. It sounds like the best thing she's ever heard. "Deal."

\--

There's a small house tucked away along a private strip of beach just outside the Fijian capital of Suva that Alex pays entirely for with one money transfer.

("I guess you're the breadwinner in this relationship, huh?" Nikita had teased, earning her an eye roll and a hip check.

"Only if it means you do all the housework," Alex had replied pointedly.)

Alex takes frequent trips to Moscow to visit her mother, and Nikita still has to drop by Langley once in a while, but for the most part, they reach equilibrium together.

They talk about adopting a dog, and then argue all night about what to name him before deciding that they'd keep whatever name he already has.

("Unless it's like, Dickface. We'd have to change it if it's Dickface."

"Who in the world would name their dog Dickface, Alex?"

"Roan would've, probably."

Nikita gives her a look that's half-exasperated, half-affectionate.)

Alex knows that her life might never be conventional in any sense of the word - that she might never get the ring, or the kids, or the white picket fence, but she has Nikita, and maybe a dog that isn't named Dickface. Everything else comes a little easier after that.

 

_fin_


End file.
